


Beat Me To The Sacrifice

by kristen999



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-22 08:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: In the darkest of hours, Steve and Danny are always there for each other, side by side, no matter what.  It’s what they do.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 61
Kudos: 327





	Beat Me To The Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginary_iby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_iby/gifts).



> Warnings for: violence, descriptions of violence, and torture. (On par with the same levels as the show.)
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader Esteefee for her crit and suggestions!  
> Thanks Imaginary_iby for the prompt. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Steve eyed the hamper full of clothes with annoyance when he walked into the bathroom. Thank goodness it was almost the weekend; the chores were piling up. After turning on the water to the shower, he got out his aftershave and razor and pondered if he wanted to brush his teeth at the sink or not. 

Shower first.

He started removing his underwear when Danny entered the small space and leaned on the door jab. Steve looked at him, bemused. “Can I help you, Daniel?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

It wasn’t hard to miss what was tenting the front of Danny’s boxers. Steve mentally pushed back a pulse of eagerness. “We’ve got to go to work.”

“True, but we both need to take a shower, and I thought, you know, water conservation.”

“Water conversation?”

“Yeah.” Danny trailed his gaze down Steve’s bare chest. “I also bought that new almond coconut shower gel yesterday. We should try it this morning.”

“The one that makes your skin soft?”

“Yeah, the one that makes your skin really, _really_ soft.” Danny stepped inside and closed the door with the biggest grin. But his smile slowly faded as he stared at Steve. “Dude, what is that noise?”

Steve looked between the spraying water and Danny. “What noise?”

“That grating sound.” Danny winced. “How can you not hear that?”

Steve listened, noticing an annoying throb increasing in volume. He shook his head, but that only made things worse. What the hell?

His vision began to swim and the buzzing sound cut through his senses, jarring and loud. It was like someone was drilling through his skull, sending the horrible vibrations throughout his head. Steve tried covering his ears, but it felt like he was like he was pulling ten G’s. The noise _hurt._ He groaned. 

“McGarrett!”

“Danny?” Steve tried clearing his vision, but the high-pitched whir drowned out the person yelling at him.

“Get him up.”

Freezing water splashed over him. Steve gasped, his eyes flying open as he coughed and sputtered, the cold seeping into his skin.

On the floor, he was on the floor. He wobbled on his hands and knees. Water dripped down his face.

Before he could orientate himself, hands grabbed from behind and hauled him upright, the iron grip around his biceps the only thing keeping him vertical.

Steve was shoved into a chair. 

A guy tossed a bucket onto the floor. “You fucking awake now?”

Steve tried cataloging his surroundings, but it was hard to concentrate. The left side of his face felt sticky, his temple throbbed. Squinting, Steve realized the sticky feeling was drying blood. Oh, head wound. He stared at the man looming over him, a broad-shouldered guy who oozed a bad attitude. Steve saw two of him. 

“Give us what we want and we’ll let you go.”

Steve snorted, he couldn’t help it.

The Big Guy reared his fist back –

Someone else grabbed him by the wrist. “Remember what the boss said, no more head injuries.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“No. But the rest of him is fair game.”

Steve wasn’t prepared for the fist that slammed into his abdomen, the pain sharp and sudden.

The guy behind his chair dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders, keeping him in place.

The next blow struck him in the same spot, middle ribs. Followed by a third and fourth blow. He struggled to breathe. Steve tried to sit up, to set himself, but the room spun like crazy.

The next punch went high, striking him in the sternum. He saw stars. This time he would have fallen out of the chair if it weren’t for the goon behind him.

“Give us the password.”

Steve didn’t understand. “What?”

An elbow slammed down against his thigh, Steve bit down a yell as pain radiated down the rest of his leg. He needed to detach. Disconnect.

He closed his eye. Blocked out the sound, ignored the pain. 

Ignored it all.

“Are you wearing a new aftershave?”

Steve glanced at Danny in the passenger seat while he drove. “What? No.”

“Using new soap?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” Steve risked another glance. “Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just, you know…it smells nice.”

“You should know what I put on, given you were in the shower with me this morning.”

“Actually, I was paying more attention to what you weren’t wearing.”

Steve grinned. They had used up a lot of hot water. “You’re the reason why the FBI was waiting outside the house.”

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t hear the phone ring.”

After parking the car, Steve stared at Danny. “I couldn’t hear my phone because you were sucking my cock.”

“I didn’t hear you complain,” Danny said, looking smug. 

A drizzle began to fall as Steve got out of the car. Looking up, he saw dark clouds gathered in the sky; the rain started falling in earnest. 

_“Wake him up again.”_

Steve trembled, suddenly chilly. He stared at Danny as his face fuzzed in and out. “What did you say?”

Danny disappeared and the Big Guy appeared into his line of sight, holding a bucket. “Give me the password.” 

Steve shivered, cold and wet. The room was on tilt-a-whirl. He closed his eyes to keep the dizziness at bay. 

“You’re not going to break him this way.” A woman’s voice said. “He’s a Navy SEAL. He’s trained to take far worse for far longer.”

Steve opened his eyes. The woman went toward him and took Steve by the chin to pull his head up. “Am I right, Commander?” 

He stared, but didn’t recognize her.

Steve focused on breathing, but his ribs protested with the movement. He wasn’t in great shape right now. 

The woman walked out of his line of sight. 

Steve had to remain alert, to find a means to escape, but his eyes kept drifting closed. His head hurt and he was so freaking tired. 

Someone slapped his face. “Pay attention.”

The smack was light, but it jarred his pounding skull.

“Hey, idiot! You might want to stop hitting the concussed guy.”

Steve _knew_ that voice. He craned his neck, searching. “Danny?

“Please bring our guest closer,” the woman ordered. “Be sure to give the Commander a front row seat.”

There was a scuffle followed by a curse. Danny was forced into a chair across from Steve. 

Panic started bubbling inside him. Steve stared at the woman. “I don’t know what you want!”

“The password.”

“What password?”

The woman walked toward a table and brought back a laptop. “To this.”

Steve stared at it. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“Jog Commander McGarrett’s memory.”

The man who’d been beating Steve turned around and punched Danny in the face, causing his head to whip back.

“No!” Steve lunged out of his chair, but two arms grabbed him from behind, pinning him in place.

“It’s okay,” Danny grunted. “This guy hits like a five-year old.”

The Big Guy responded in kind. He punched Danny in the jaw, then the head, the sound of bone smacking flesh filling Steve’s ears.

Steve watched in horror, powerless to stop the violence. The goon behind him wrapped his arms around Steve’s chest even tighter. “I don’t know any password!”

_Punch._

“Stop it!”

_Punch._

“God damn it, enough!”

It was fucking déjà vu all over again. Being asked for something he didn’t know. Couldn’t know. 

_Punch._

The room began spinning. Steve ignored it. He screamed and cursed, his throat going raw…

Steve checked for tails or anything else suspicious as they approached the condo. 

“Can you explain something to me?” Danny asked after they got out of the car and started walking. “Why can’t the FBI, CIA, NSA, or any other government agency made up of letters, why can’t they keep their secrets safe? How can they lose such important lists? Worse yet, why do they keep them on things that can be stolen?”

“I don’t know.”

“And why do we always have to be the people to find them?”

“Because we have a reputation of getting things done,” Steve said. Danny rolled his eyes. Steve shrugged. “And our team is also made up of letters?”

“No, the FBI was so impatient to talk to you that they couldn’t wait for you to report to work. They were practically picking the locks when we came downstairs.”

“You mean when we were late getting ready?” Steve waggled his eyebrows. 

“Stop changing the subject.”

But Steve needed the distraction given the significance of their task. “This isn’t a list per say. It’s dossier of Special Forces personnel who live on the island.”

Danny threw his hands up. “Why in the hell does that even exist?”

“It’s not supposed to. It’s a partial dossier taken from SOCOM.” Steve broke the seal on the crime scene tape over the door. “Lieutenant Governor Takei wants to run for higher office so he thought it would be great PR if he acknowledged that so many special operators have moved here to live. He went though some unofficial channels and obtained the damn thing.”

“Okay, I get that we don’t want to advertise that. But sometimes it’s hard to avoid the spotlight. I mean you’re high-profile. People know you were a SEAL. Heck, I’ve seen ads for self-defense classes instructed by Green Berets. They want people to know about their status as bad asses.”

“But this is more than just a list of those who live here. It highlighted some missions and even included names of family members and where they live just in case Takei wanted to interview them.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The intel officer who sent it to Takei’s people is in the brig right now.” Steve started searching the condo. “The FBI said they couldn’t find the laptop with the dossier. But I’m wondering if they didn’t look hard enough. Takei’s assistant doesn’t strike me as that crafty.”

“Wait, so this file, it has information on you, right? Stuff that very bad people who might still hold a grudge would like to know?

“It’s got information on Mary, and that is all I care about.” There was no way Steve would allow his sister to be put in danger because of him. 

Danny reached over and grabbed Steve’s arm, his hand warm on his skin. “We’ll find it, okay? I promise.”

Steve swallowed. “Yeah, good.” He was running out of people to protect in his life. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you hear me, Steve?”

Steve looked over at Danny in confusion. “Of course I do.” 

“Steve? Come on, buddy, can you hear me?”

Steve startled awake. He blinked, uncertain where he was or what was happening. “W-what?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Danny’s worried face blurred into view. It took a minute before Steve realized he was lying on the floor, his head in Danny’s lap. “Danny?”

“Yeah.”

“What…where?” Steve groaned as he tried getting up.

“Hey, take it easy. Moe used you for stress relief before he moved onto me.”

Danny helped Steve sit up, every one of Steve’s muscles protesting the movement. He leaned against the wall and waited for the sudden spike in nausea to abide. “Moe?”

“Larry, Curly, and Moe.” Danny sat beside Steve, radiating concern. “Moe’s the guy who enjoys beating on people. Curly seems to be the extra helper. And Larry is the guy who tried to keep you in line, not that you didn’t test him earlier. Congrats on biting him by the way.”

Steve blinked at him. He didn’t remember biting anyone. “We’re being held hostage by the Three Stooges?” 

“And their evil femme fatale boss.”

Bits and pieces of what Danny was talking about flashed in Steve’s head. The Big Guy—Moe beating on Steve then on—

Steve studied Danny, took in his swollen left eye, the contusions over most of his face, and the busted lip. Steve reached over, but didn’t touch, too afraid of causing more pain. Red-hot anger coursed through him. “Who did this?”

“I think we just went over that.”

Steve tried to rewind the last few moments.

“Steve.” Danny rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Are you with me?”

Steve swallowed; his mouth was so dry. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You are a lousy liar.” Danny kept his hand on Steve’s arm. He kept trying to look at Steve’s eyes, probably checking his pupils. He sighed. “I got to ask. What do you remember about today?”

“I…there was a laptop. I…” Steve’s head…it felt like someone had split open his skull. All he wanted to do was hunker down into darkness. “I remember the Feds stopping by the house. We were in the shower and they stopped by because I didn’t hear my phone.”

Danny’s eyebrows curved upward. “We were in the shower?”

“Yeah, you found a new use for my body gel….” Steve closed his eyes, wishing they were there instead of… “We need to get out of here. Figure out a way to escape.” 

Steve tried to stand, but didn’t even make it halfway before listing sideways.

“Hey, stop it, will ya?” Danny slowly eased Steve back to the floor. “You have one hell of a concussion. As in, Jesus, that asshole hit you so hard with that rifle… I thought…I thought you were dead.”

No wonder his head was killing him. Steve rubbed his eyes. “What are they after?”

Danny sighed. “The password to the laptop.”

Guilt clawed his insides. “I don’t remember it.” 

Steve had some encryption codes memorized, but which one? And if he did figure it out, what then? It was the only leverage he had to keep them both alive. 

He looked over at Danny who was battered and bruised, but relatively okay.

Slow dawning realization hit Steve. “They’re going to hurt you to get to me.”

“Don’t think about that right now.”

The bruising patterns along Danny’s face spoke of a right-handed person. Even his jaw was swollen. He might not be able to eat properly for days. 

_No. Not again._ He couldn’t allow this to spiral out of control. Not on his watch. Steve bit his lip. “I can’t watch another person that I love get hurt because of me. Die, because I wasn’t able to—”

“Hey, stop it.” Danny pushed up on his knees until he was face to face with him. “Enough.”

“Danny–”

“No, don’t Danny me. You got your head bashed in and you are not thinking straight. I can take care of myself. I’m made of tough stuff, okay? I have taken a beating before, I’ve been stabbed, I’ve been shot and I’ve faced far worse assholes then these guys. And if they do get more medieval, I can take that, too.”

“No.”

“No? You don’t get to dictate to me how I handle this.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “And don’t play hero, Steve. Don’t provoke them. I can take what they dish out. You on the other hand…”

But he wasn’t that bad off. Steve had ensured concussions before. He would be fine. 

“If I could just remember what happened…” Steve squinted at Danny. “Is it _my_ laptop?”

Danny squeezed his eyes closed and blew out a slow breath. “No. We found it in a floorboard, because you know, people have seen too many spy movies. But when we started it up….”

Steve tried following what Danny was saying, but it was difficult to follow his words. 

It didn’t matter. The door flung open and the room filled with four goons. They dragged Steve and Danny to their feet and down the hallway.

* * *

Steve was forced into a chair by Moe while Larry began tying Steve’s wrists to the chair with pieces of rope. 

While he didn’t recall biting the asshole, Steve took pleasure at seeing a fresh bandage around Larry’s forearm.

Larry must’ve noticed. He leaned toward Steve’s ear. “I look forward to killing you.”

“That would require skill you don’t have.”

Moe snorted. 

Larry went to backhand Steve.

“I said no more head injuries.” The woman walked into Steve’s line of sight and stared at her henchman. “Understood?”

Moving to stand behind Steve’s chair, Larry dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders. Steve tightened his jaw and clenched it harder when he saw Curly securing Danny in the chair across from him.

The woman watched Steve, studying him and his reactions. Steve tried to school his rage, but he knew the woman had nailed his weakness and would continue to exploit it. 

“So, what do I call you?” Steve asked. “ _Hey you_ seems ineffective.”

“Lyssa.”

“Really?” Danny snorted. “The goodness of anger? Wow, were you part the homework assignment that my kid got in mythology or did you get that from the bad guy name generator?”

Lyssa continued staring at Steve as she spoke. “Detective Williams. Tell me. Do you have a fear of drowning?” She turned toward Danny, who stared back at her, defiant. “Many people do of course. It’s a natural fear. Terrifying, even.”

Moe had disappeared at some point and now re-entered the room with the bucket. Curly walked behind him with a stack of white towels. 

Dread filled Steve’s stomach. He locked eyes with Lyssa, his breathing increasing. “I told you. I don’t know the password.”

Lyssa shook her head and turned her attention toward his partner. “I know you’ve heard of water boarding, Danny. May I call you ‘Danny?’”

“You don’t want to know what I’d like to call you.”

She walked around Danny’s chair. “I’m sure you’ve been told the propaganda about water boarding. That it simulates the feeling of drowning. This is not the case.” Lyssa leaned over him. “You feel that way because you _are drowning_ —or, rather, being drowned, albeit slowly, and under controlled conditions.”

Danny glared at her, displaying no signs of fear. But Steve knew how rattled he must be, how terrified he was of drowning. 

Steve opened his mouth to yell something, but Danny cut him off. “All you villains must go to the same school. They teach you how to threaten people in the fifth or sixth grade?”

Lyssa nodded at her goons. 

Curly began folding a thin towel. Moe grabbed the bucket, water sloshing over the sides. 

Steve started to lean forward when he felt a piece of rope wrap around his throat, restricting his movement.

“Try to bite me again, asshole,” Larry whispered in his ear. “Give me the pleasure.” He yanked on the rope to emphasize his point.

Lyssa glanced between Steve and Danny, watching them both. 

Danny looked livid, but he didn’t yell or scream. Steve didn’t think it mattered; Lyssa had their number.

“You know this technique isn’t very new,” she said. “The Inquisition used it. It was considered an appropriate way to get a confession.”

Moe stood behind Danny, and Danny braced for it, muscles tensing. 

Moe pressed the towel over Danny’s face, forcing his head back, ensuring maximum impact. Curly stood over him, holding the bucket high and slowly pouring water over Danny’s face.

“Amazing what a towel can do when it’s damp. You’ll hold your breath as long as you can of course, but eventually, you’ll inhale, and that will cause the wet towel to get tighter over your nose and mouth.”

Seconds ticked agonizingly by. Three seconds, five seconds, Danny’s arms and legs straining. 

Steve’s whole body shook with rage. He knew what was happening; the gag reflex, the inability to breathe as he unconsciously swallowed more and more water. “Enough!” 

Moe removed the towel. Danny gasped, his chest heaving.

“How many times have you been through this, Commander?” Lyssa asked. “How long did you last? How many sessions?”

“Screw you.”

“Any advice for Danny? 

Moe draped the wet towel over Danny’s face again before he had a chance to get another deep breath. 

“Of course, it’s not just about making it hard to breathe; it’s about how much water you swallow. During the Inquisition, the severity of the infliction was measured by the number of jars of water used. Can you imagine how much stomach pain that caused? How much water one person could be forced to consume?” 

Steve fumed, helpless. 

Lyssa nodded, and Moe removed the towel.

Danny coughed, spewing water out of his mouth, his body shaking. Steve would do anything to trade places with him. He hoped Danny would forgive him for not being able to stop this. 

Lyssa eyed Steve, perplexed. “How can you do this? Watching your friend fight for breath? You know what it’s like, how long it all feels...seconds stretching out into the longest minutes of your life. Praying for it to end.” 

Steve strained against the ropes. “Why not try it on me? Huh?”

“I doubt it would be as effective.” She glanced at Danny who still coughed, water dribbling down his chin. “But we all know most people—even SEALs—can barely tolerate it for more than thirty or even sixty seconds at the most.” Lyssa shrugged. “It’s effective. I mean, it’s not like it causes any physical pain. In fact, it barely leaves a mark...on the body, that is.”

Moe held the towel in the air over Danny’s face again.

“Wait. Stop!” Steve yelled his heart racing. “I’ll tell you the password.”

Lyssa held up her hand. Moe stood still. 

“He’s lying,” Danny growled, glaring at Steve, his voice wrecked. “He doesn’t know shit.”

“Do not play with me, Commander.” Lyssa pushed a rolling cart over with the laptop. “Tell me.”

“Alpha, Bravo, Zebra, 108-654-10. Tango. 10.” That was the password Steve had used for his most critical work. Maybe that was what he’d used even if he couldn’t remember.

He watched her type it in, hoping, praying it was the right one. 

The laptop beeped in error. 

Lyssa stared at Steve. “Do you think I’m playing a game?” 

Larry moved behind him and the rope around Steve’s throat tightened, cutting off his air. 

“No one knows where you are,” Lyssa said. “No one will rescue you.”

Danny was yelling at Steve or Larry or Lyssa. He couldn’t tell over the blood pounding in his ears, his vision blacking around the edges.

It took a while to find a power cord for the laptop, but Jerry walked Steve through the steps on how retrieve the file from the ridiculously soft protection the Governor’s aide had used. Jesus. He couldn’t believe such classified information had been so easily attained. 

Not that it mattered much with people shooting at them.

Bullets shattered the windows. Steve took cover behind the china cabinet. 

He checked his magazine. “I’m out.”

“Same,” Danny yelled.

There were two dead bodies in the living room. One in the kitchen. That left four shooters coming from two directions. They were going to be outflanked.

Steve peered over at the coffee table where the laptop was. “I need to secure that.”

The room was peppered by more bullets. Steve ducked under the cabinet.

“What?” Danny screamed.

Steve stared at the laptop; he had no way of destroying it in time. “I didn’t get a chance to enter a password after I found the file.”

Danny stared at the coffee table from his spot on the other side of the room. The shooting stopped.

Before Steve could make a dash toward the living room, two men came through the kitchen. Shit.

Grabbing a letter opener off the table, Steve jabbed it into the shoulder of the first goon. 

Pulling it out, Steve turned toward the second guy when something connected with his temple. His vision went black.

Steve saw sparkles. He struggled in the chair as he hacked and coughed, but Larry just twisted the rope harder.

“You stupid sons of bitches; he can’t help you if he can’t breathe!” Danny yelled. 

The rope slackened and Steve panted for air, wheezing. 

“Commander McGarrett needed a reminder about what was at stake.”

The fuzzy image of Danny strapped to a chair stared back at Steve. His anguished expression, the way all his muscles strained against his restraint, screamed defiance. Danny was a fighter, always was, always would be. 

“Treat Detective Williams to another session,” Lyssa ordered. “But this time use something that will last longer. Don’t let up until Commander McGarrett gives us the right password.”

Moe grabbed the water bucket.

No. Not again. Not like his father. Not like Freddie, not like his mom, with Steve helpless to do anything. 

Something broke inside of him. Steve lurched to his feet and threw himself backward. Steve and the chair plowed into Larry, slamming the goon against the wall. 

Steve risked injury and pushed himself over. The chair took the brunt of the impact, the wooden arms breaking. Steve started untying his wrists. He could sense Larry staggering up and coming toward him. 

It was a race. Steve scrambled to his feet and grabbed one of the wooden slats. 

He aimed high, at something vital. Fast and lethal. He aimed for the larynx, but caught Larry in the side of the face with a _crunch_ , the swing’s momentum making Steve stumble. But he caught himself, ready to keep fighting, catching a commotion out of the corner of his eye where Danny was.

Larry writhed on the floor, spitting blood and cradling his mouth. Steve had probably broken his jaw. 

“Steve!” Danny shouted.

Moe had crossed the room and Steve came up swinging. The slat smacked Moe’s shoulder. Moe grabbed Steve’s wrist with both hands, twisting it at sharp angle. 

Moe had height and weight over Steve, the struggle for the weapon sending Steve onto his toes. Steve let go of the slat and punched Moe in the ribs. 

Moe grunted, the slat slipping from his grip and clattering onto the floor. All the rapid movement played havoc with Steve’s vertigo. He fought to keep his balance, just trying to find his target. 

He had one play. Steve tackled hard, ramming his shoulders into Moe’s midsection. But Moe was a solid bastard and wrapped his arms around Steve’s upper body, lifting him up to slam Steve into the wall. 

Steve tried to find his footing and when he looked up, a fist smashed him in the face.

It felt like his head exploded. Steve dropped like a stone, landing on his back, too disoriented to move. Nothing obeyed his commands. Steve tried rolling over, but only succeeded in flopping around. He opened his eyes and desperately tried to focus. 

Moe’s face swam into view as he loomed over Steve with the wooden chair arm in his hand. “When I’m done with you, the last thing anyone will worry about are more head injuries.” Moe raised the slat to bring it down on Steve when something crashed into the right side of his body, knocking him down in a heap.

Danny stood over Moe, his chest heaving, holding the remains of his own chair. “Now you have your own concussion to worry about, asshole.”

Danny. Danny was safe. 

“Hey, hey, you okay? Huh?” Danny’s hair was still wet; the bruises on his face more vivid. “Can you stand?” Hands touched his face. “Steve?”

Steve wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “Up.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, tough guy.” Danny hauled Steve to his feet. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Steve leaned on Danny as he waited for his equilibrium to return. “Danger?”

“The Goddess of Anger slipped away.”

“What?”

Danny tightened his grip around Steve’s waist. “How’s your head? I saw that bastard punch you. Like you needed any more trauma.”

Steve tried to focus on placing one foot in front of another. He noticed the body on the ground that they stepped around. Curly. Danny had taken out Curly and Steve had taken out Larry. No would believe them. Tortured by the Three Stooges.

“Steve, babe. Please talk to me.”

“Wasn’t going to let them hurt you,” Steve mumbled. “Not like Dad.” He closed his eyes against his father’s scream over the phone. 

“Okay, we’re okay. We’re going to take a rest here. I’m going to lower you to the floor.”

Steve couldn’t tell if he was standing or sitting. He was so tired. 

“God damn it Steve. Why did you have to make that break, huh? I almost had my hands free when you went berserk. I said, don’t play hero. You dumb sonofabitch.”

Danny was yelling at him, but he was brushing back Steve’s hair, touching his face, his eyes a crazed kind of scared. 

Steve couldn’t keep his mother from bleeding out, couldn’t save Freddie. Moisture filled his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Danny kissed Steve’s forehead. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to get out of here and to a hospital, and you’re going to get that thick skull checked out.”

“Wasn’t going to let them hurt you again.” Steve sucked in a breath; his head was killing him. He watched Danny check the perimeter, noticing the Glock stuck in the back of Danny’s pants. Good man. Danny was always resourceful. He had a weapon; he was secure. “You need to go.”

Danny squatted next to him. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Go. Now. Danny, go.” Steve tried pushing him away. 

“Stop it. I said I wasn’t leaving you and I won’t. Now come on, if you sit too long you’re never going to want to move again.”

Danny hauled Steve back to his feet; Steve wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulders while Danny anchored him around the waist. Swaying on his feet, Steve gulped back the need to throw up on Danny’s shoes.

“How are you feeling? Are you good?”

“No,” Steve said.

“I know, buddy, but the sooner we get out of here the sooner you’ll feel better.”

“I agree.”

Danny’s whole body tensed. 

Lyssa had come out of nowhere. “I’ll give you both one last chance to give me that password or I’m going to put a bullet in both your heads.” She pointed her weapon at Steve. “I’ll even call it a mercy killing for you, Commander.”

Steve could feel the uncorked fury radiating from Danny’s body. “I am so sick of your bullshit, lady. What was this all for anyway? A fucking payday? You lost how many men? How many more are going to be sucking through a straw for the next year? You must be compensating for something. Got to get your rocks off torturing people, huh?”

Steve knew Danny, knew this was distraction. He just needed to connect the dots. Figure out what Danny’s plan was. 

The Glock was in the back of Danny’s waistband. He needed to be able to draw his weapon. That was Steve’s job.

Danny continued berating, continued taunting, while Steve tried to get it together enough to give them both the chance. He planted his feet to steady himself. There were at least five Lyssas, all of them pointing their SIG at Danny. Steve focused on the one in the middle. 

“Even your name is pretentious. Lyssa. The Greeks must be rolling over in their graves.”

“On second thought,” Lyssa said. “Given his state, why waste a bullet on McGarrett. I’ll just shoot you multiple times. Starting in the mouth.”

Steve let go of Danny and threw himself forward. He grabbed Lyssa’s wrist, jerking it toward the ceiling. The gun went off. But not at Danny. That was all that mattered. 

There was more gunfire. Lyssa jerked in Steve’s grip. Once. Twice. Then she became dead weight. 

Steve fell with her and kept falling.

* * *

It was too quiet, and that bothered him. Usually the sound of the ocean or Eddie’s whines for breakfast lured him awake. Sometimes it was Danny’s cold feet brushing his leg under the blanket. Because seriously, how did anyone have cold feet on a tropical island?

But this time, it was the odd nothingness. 

Steve’s eyes twitched. 

Then his hand. 

“Hey, are you awake again?”

Had he woken Danny earlier this morning? Steve forced his gritty eyes open. It was oddly dark.

“Is it raining?” Steve winced at the sound of his voice. 

“I don’t think so.” Danny looked over at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Steve blinked up at Danny, wondering why the perspective was odd. “You put blankets over the windows?”

“Steve. Do you know where you are?”

“In bed with you?”

Danny grinned down at him, sad and fond. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve said something like to me this week.”

A dull ache began at Steve’s temple. “Got a headache.”

“Yeah, babe. You do. You’ve got a concussion. A bad one.”

Steve stared at Danny and the outlines of everything behind him. Steve wasn’t in his bedroom. “I’m in a hospital.”

“Yeah. Second day.”

“But why?”

Danny reached over and took Steve’s hand. “Because you do stupid things. Now go back to sleep.”

* * *

Steve could feel the towel over his nose and mouth, the water going down his throat, choking him. He kept his eyes closed and tried to think of something else, someone else. And when he opened them again, he was the one pouring the water over Danny’s face.

He bolted awake, his heart pounding, his eyes watering.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Danny?”

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

“Danny.” Steve stared at Danny, searching his face in the daylight, at the bruises and swollen jaw. Steve’s blood boiled. He reached over, touching Danny’s chin. “Who…?

But then he remembered the Three Stooges. And the Goodness of anger. And that fucking password.

“I’m so sorry, Danny. I’m—”

“Hey, stop apologizing. You did not temporarily ruin my normal good looks, you hear me?”

“They tortured you to get to me.” Steve swallowed, feeling ill. “They waterboarded you.” How the hell did Steve allow that to happen?

“Yeah, they did. And it sucked, but that also was not your fault.”

“Danny. They—”

“Used me to get to you. But like many things, they were wrong.”

“What do you mean…I…?”

“You have a Grade Three concussion. You have a bruise on your brain because you are you and have to be dramatic.” Danny took Steve’s hand. “It’s minor…for brain bruises. They gave you meds, but you still need lots of rest.”

But the laptop? Steve rested his aching head into the pillow. “I still don’t understand.”

“I’ll talk slow, because you’re injured and you look kind of pathetic when you stare at me like that. You never had the password. I did.”

“No. That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense because you got your skull bashed in. You never reached the lap top, I did. I entered my password. I secured it.”

Danny held his head up high, proud, gripping Stave’s hand. But why would he do that? Allow himself to be tortured? 

“Danny…why?”

“Because if they got that information, if they sold it, it would have put bunch of SEALS in danger. _You in danger._ You and Mary. And I couldn’t risk you losing anyone again. And I wasn’t about to let those assholes torture you, not with a head injury.”

Danny shook his head, laughing. It sounded exasperated. ”Jesus. You were so….so out of it. I knew it was bad, and like hell was I going sit by and let them kill you. Not when I could take whatever they could dish out. “

“I…I wasn’t that out of it.”

“Babe, I lost count how many times you passed out. Passing out is not good. And some of things you said….”

“Like what?”

“Goofy things. Even for you.”

“Danny….”

“Like we were in bed _together_ when the Feds called.”

Steve blinked. Why was that weird?

Danny’s face softened, his eyes a little, wistful. “Steve, we don’t share a bed. Or you know, the um...shower.”

Steve felt his cheeks glow warm. He let go of Danny’s hand. “I…I thought…”

“Hey, I’m not upset.” Danny reached out for Steve’s hand again. “You obviously went to a safe place in your head.”

Embarrassment made him squirm. How could he have confused reality and fantasy like that? Steve pulled the sheet over his chest. “Look, I’m tired. I’m going to get some more sleep.”

“This doesn’t make anything weird between us, Steve. We’re good, more than good.”

Steve closed his eyes and kept them closed until he heard Danny settle back into the chair next to his bed.

* * *

Steve had spent three days in the hospital; he’d learned Danny had been under observation for one night before becoming a constant presence at Steve’s side. It did little to alleviate his guilt. 

Going home included Tani and Lou picking them up and dropping him and Danny off at his house. 

“Wow, you both even walk like old men,” Tani commented.

“You try moving with cracked ribs,” Danny mumbled.

“Junior’s going to have his hands full when he gets back from his reserve drill,” Lou said. “Are you sure you two want to be left alone?”

Danny waved them off. “We’ll be fine.”

It was only then that Steve realized Danny wasn’t leaving with the rest of them. His surprise must have shown on his face because Danny rolled his eyes. “Head injury, Steve. Bruise on the brain. This means you can’t be left unsupervised for a while.”

Steve knew that, of course, except for the forgetting part. And the headache that refused to go away. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Danny asked. “Relatively speaking?”

He wanted to say that he wished the sleeping in bed had been true, that his memories of the shower were not all in his head. That this lingering melancholy was just more side effects of the concussion. But Steve didn’t want to make things even more awkward than they needed to be.

“I’m good. What about you?” 

Because Danny’s face was still black and blue and he’d endured something that would leave emotional scars for a long time. One did not just get over being tortured.

“I’m okay.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Danny worked his jaw back and forth, considering his words. “Maybe when my defenses are lowered and I’m not on such high alert about brain bleeds and concussion charts, maybe the rest of me will calm down so everything else can come crashing on in. But for right now.” He shrugged. “I’m okay. And the moment when I’m not…I’ll tell you. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. “For what you did.”

“That’s what we do. Look after each other.” Danny rose to his feet, an arm braced against his side. “I know one thing that would make me feel better is a nap.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I know you’re tired.”

Steve’s whole body was sore; the bruising on his chest probably matched the ugly shades of black and blue where the rifle struck him on the head. He’d looked like a stranger in the hospital mirror.

It took him three times as long as normal to go up the flight of stairs and into his bedroom and even longer to realize that Danny was standing on the other side of the bed.

“Is it okay if I sleep beside you?”

“Danny. You don’t have to. I don’t need…”

“Sleep?”

“Pity.”

“Pfft. You took on a couple of goons while concussed. Pity is not a word I associate with you.”

“What words do you associate with me?” Steve got into bed.

“Other than Neanderthal animal?” Danny crawled in beside him. “A soft, gooey marshmallow.” 

Adjusting the sheets, Danny snuggled closer. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” It was more than okay. Steve released a heavy breath. “I didn’t think, you know…I’ve always wanted…”

“Words giving you trouble again?”

Steve traced the outline of Danny’s arm around him. “Words always fail me when it comes to you.”

“Do you recall my reaction when you told me about the shower? Or that we shared the same bed? I know it’s hard for you to remember things so let me remind you…I wasn’t upset. I was even maybe a little...hopeful.”

Danny kissed the back of Steve’s neck. “And I want to talk about this, but when we’re both feeling better. For now, let’s just…you know, not think too much. Let’s just sleep.”

Steve felt his body getting heavy, his limbs go lax, his skin soaking up Danny’s body heat. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Danny wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and took Steve’s hand into his own. “And when you squeeze my hand, it’s really me, babe.”

Steve Danny calloused hand into his own, rubbed his thumb over Danny’s knuckles, kissing them. “Yes, it is,” he said, huddling closer, and finally drifting off.

* * *

Fini

Sometimes you must obey The Muse even with the narrator is altered and a challenge to write :)


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